


A Slow Night Sky

by sonyo_writes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, First Kiss, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, literally just fluff, moon and stars tsukkiyama, no beta we die like men, soft, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24303115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonyo_writes/pseuds/sonyo_writes
Summary: In which Tsukishima loves the stars, and Yamaguchi loves the moon.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	A Slow Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

> aaa this is my first fic!! i know it's terrible i'm really sorry but i'm just so baby over tsukkiyama. it is past three am and i have not proofread but uhh  
> it is what it is  
> please give me any and all feedback you have! even if it's just to say i suck uwu

Tsukishima never really liked the moon.

It was so cold, so empty. The light it cast was recycled, weakened, pale. Its shape was too easy to discern, so long as you looked. Even when it hid behind the clouds on a particularly dark night, it never took long for someone to look the moon in the eyes and say, _how are you tonight?_ It was unnerving. The way the moon was on display, the subject of so much curiosity, so much adoration and praise. Loyalty, even. How could a stark, bleak satellite deserve loyalty?

And so, when Yamaguchi Tadashi looked up, his searching his best friend’s features, and asked in a doting voice if _Tsukki_ was ready to walk home, cold stone occupied Tsukishima’s belly. His tongue became thick, and his eyes were too dry.

Had they ever been this dry? Well, there is no water on the moon, so what comparison is there to make?

With difficulty, great difficulty, Tsukishima swallowed and nodded, his larynx bobbing up and down the length of his neck. When it settled at its midpoint, poking out like the flower of a snowdrop, Yamaguchi let his gaze sink to the floor of the club room and began to walk.

It was already dark, and wind blew Yamaguchi’s hair around his face, framing his view of the moon. There were no clouds that night, nothing for the satellite face to mask itself with. The boy almost smiled. He instead let a corner of his lips tug upward and slackened the muscle soon after. _The moon is always watching_ , he reminded himself, _and you’ve already shown too much_.

A pink tint spread behind Yamaguchi’s freckles, and Tsukishima felt a sudden urge to glance down to his friend.

He never knew the sky could be the same colour as the roses he almost bought for his oldest friend. There were half a dozen flowers he had picked out, each one’s petals the same colour as a blush Tsukishima often dreamed of cupping between his hands. But he put the flowers back. The dreams didn’t stop.

Nor did he know that the stars would be still visible on such a sky. Some of the stars were pinpricks of light brown, and others were larger, like the three beneath Yamaguchi’s left eye that reminded Tsukishima of Orion’s belt. The tower of a boy could barely see the constellations on the pinch server’s cheeks, but how could the moon forget the same view it sees every night, or its first thought as it wakes?

Yamaguchi had his eyes above the houses, looking at the moon again. His pupils dilated as he tried to take in the pale light above. He allowed himself to forget that the moon could see him too, and his eyes roamed the cratered surface. They took in each hollow and curve, though it had all been burned into memory long ago. They traced more distinct features, like outlines and shapes.

Yamaguchi had always loved the moon.

He didn’t know when the love first blossomed, or when exactly the seed was planted. The crevices and bruises on the moon’s face had a certain mystery to them. Always on display, but rarely looked at. Yamaguchi made sure to review them every night, taking stock of the new things and the old things. Everything made its way onto the map of the moon he had been making for years. One he referred to again and again, because the moon changed depending on how you looked at it, and Yamaguchi did not like it when he couldn’t understand the moon.

The pair stopped walking.

Tsukishima noticed first. His hands had been in his pockets since they left the club room, and now were on either side of him. They hung well past his hips, motionless and warmed by body heat. He shifted his gaze from a pink sky to one of dark blue and black, where his friend’s eyes were cast. He gave no attention to the moon. A perimeter was maintained, avoiding the body like bad news on a sweet spring night.

No, the boy had an eye for the stars. He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked to think that it was the universe’s way of telling him where he belonged. To whom he belonged.

The stars sought to hold the moon up. They clung to it like the sweat on both boys from their volleyball practice. But the stars were tired tonight. They leaned into the moon, held by long, warm arms, nestled against a frantic heartbeat.

“Tsukki?”

A low hum buzzed between Tsukishima’s lips as a response.

“Have I ever told you why I love the moon?” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft and sweet like fresh strawberries, and his words tumbled out of his mouth. “It reminds me of you. I mean, of course it does, Tsukki, it’s right there. You’re right there. When I look outside my window because I can’t sleep, you’re there. When we walk home after practice, I can look up and choose between the world’s moon and mine. You’re so bright and so beautiful. I _adore_ you. It kills me, knowing that you’re all this and I’m just me. I’m just Tadashi. Why would the moon settle for someone like me? How can I even call you mine?” Yamaguchi rolled his lips into his mouth to silence himself.

Tsukishima’s hold on the quivering body next to him tightened, leaving no room between the two. The boy with hair the colour of kalamata olives found himself facing Tsukishima, his freckled cheek against the smooth cotton covering the blonde’s chest.

With a deep breath and full lungs, the tall bundle of love and nerves whispered. “Tadashi. What am I without you? What am I without your freckled face next to me?”

Yamaguchi slowly wrapped his arms around Tsukishima’s waist, bunching fabric in his cold hands.

A pause decorated with shallow breaths passed.

“If I am your moon, you are my stars. How can I be without you, Tadashi? _How_?” As his voice broke, a tear dripped from his chin to the smaller boy’s hair. Tsukishima pressed a kiss on the now wet lock of hair. “You are everything to me. Let me be your moon, Tadashi, if you will be my stars. _Please_.”

The two were wrapped in each other’s arms, shoulders rising and falling erratically in a desperate search for rhythm. If they held on any tighter, they wouldn’t have been able to breathe. They stayed like this for many minutes, neither of them daring to speak or move. Tension flowed out of their bodies as their heartbeats synchronized and their breathing slowed.

“Kei? Can I ask you something?”

“You already are,” Tsukishima chuckled.

Yamaguchi smiled up at the taller boy. “Will you be mine?”

The night sky came together slowly, with imperceptible, impossibly gentle movements. The moon bent down from its neck, touching its forehead with the stars below. Tsukishima’s lips, barely parted, melded with soft pink. The moon’s hands moved languidly from the stars’ torso, combing through dark hair and tracing lines between freckles. Yamaguchi’s hands gripped the celestial body at the waist. There was no space between them.

The universe had taken its time in letting the two finally coalesce. There was no rush.


End file.
